Anthems and Ballads
by Little Patch of Heaven
Summary: - iPod song meme -  The lives, scandals, loves, and escapades of the nations in short drabbles inspired by music. -  multiple pairings, characters, themes -
1. The Music

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like: Hetalia.  
2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random/shuffle.  
3. Write a drabblet/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterward! No matter how whacked out your drabble is. :)  
4. Do ten of these, then post them.

_Okay, confession time...I kind of broke rule 3 once or twice...or a few times...I tried not to but sometimes I saw something phrased so badly I just HAD to fix it. I fail at this prompt._

* * *

**1) Falling by Iration**

Alfred loved concerts. They were loud, chaotic, and exciting and the American simply couldn't get enough of them.

Alfred screamed along with the crowd, waving his arms in the air in time with the beat. He was so caught up in the music, however, that he paid no attention to where he was flinging his arms.

"What the bloody hell, git?" Alfred stopped throwing his arms about and turned towards the (obviously British) voice. A teenager that looked to be about his age stared straight back at him, annoyed scowl on his face. "Aren't you going to apologize for hitting me in the face, wanker?" the british boy asked angrily.

Alfred didn't answer; he was too busy staring at the boy. He wasn't sure where to look: the boy's very, _very_ tight black jeans, the ripped shirt that left almost _nothing_ to the imagination, the purple tipped hair, the enormous eyebrows, or the _beautiful, amazing, wonderful_ green eyes.

Oh yes, Alfred _**really**_ loved concerts.

* * *

**2) Anthems For a Seventeen Year Old Girl by Broken Social Scene**

Hungary hated spring cleaning. She knew that as a girl she was expected to be good at things like that. And she was getting better these days at household chores. Why, she was almost a respectable wife. No longer was her head filled with thoughts of battles and hunts and….oh, who was she kidding? Hungary would love nothing more than to ditch her broom and apron and hightail it into the woods.

Hungary sighed. She was never going to be a good wife for Austria if she kept thinking like this. With a determined nod, she pushed up her dress's sleeves and looked determinedly at the mess before her, ready to begin sorting through it.

After only a few minutes, she came across a small pink flower. She stared at it, confused. The flower was obviously meant to be worn in the hair as a hair piece and Hungary was quite sure she had never owned anything like this.

And suddenly, memories of a young boy in armor - red eyes filled with laugher and white hair blowing in the wind - filled her mind. Scattered, fragmented memories of that young boy giving her the gift she now held in her hands for a reason he would never explain no matter how much she asked.

Tears pricked at her eyes but Hungary stubbornly ignored them.

Well, it would do no good for her to place this back in the pile, she decided. After all, she was trying to clean the room up…..and she was trying to be more womanly. What would it hurt to start wearing the flower in her hair?

Hopefully Prussia wouldn't remember it.

* * *

**3) The Way We Talk (Back Ted Ned Remix) by The Maine**

America stared in surprise, mouth hanging open and blue eyes wide. Those eyes followed England - _England, his ex-caretaker for Pete's sake!_ - closely, almost like a magnet, as the older nation walked across the room. But no, he wasn't walking. There wasn't that much…_hip swaying_…and…and _sashaying_ involved in walking.

Walking wasn't that sexy.

And oh…dear god, he wasn't actually thinking of England as _sexy_, was he? Dear God help him, he must be loosing his mind. Maybe the other nations were right about the damage of eating all those hamburgers…

But oh…oh my god…was England licking his lips? Surely America was just imagining that…right? And oh, surely America was just imagining how seeing that made his head spin and his pulse quicken...and his pants feel a bit tighter.

England continued to walk towards him - no, not walk…**_sashay_** - seemingly oblivious of America's state as he did so and America felt blood rush to his face. Oh dear god, the skinny jeans weren't helping with America's self control.

That was it; America was never going with England to a punk concert again. He wasn't sure he could control himself next time.

* * *

**4) The Real Me by Natalie Grant**

America found it harder and harder to smile with each new day. He knew the symptoms. Knew what it was called. And yet, he found excuse after excuse not to do something about it. He was a nation, dammit. He was a hero.

And heroes didn't take depression pills.

No matter how badly they needed them.

It wasn't long before he found himself spacing out in meetings, focusing more on the open window that the speaker. Calculating the distance to the ground and how much it would fucking hurt rather than listening to Germany's talk of economy or France's fashion tips.

Oh god, he needed help.

And finally, as he was preparing to leave after yet another pointless meeting, help came.

"America, wait." A hand caught his arm, pulling him back. He turned to look England in the eyes.

"Hey, Iggy, what up?" he asked cheerfully, large smile stretched across his face - so, so sugary sweet and fake…it was almost making him sick.

England stared him down, green eyes narrowing. "I know you're not okay, America." He smiled - small and hesitant, but a smile nonetheless . "You want to tell me about it?"

* * *

**5) All the Right Moves by OneRepublic**

The wine tasted like shit, France decided.

And even so, he couldn't seem to stop drinking it. Before he knew it, he was placing yet another empty bottle down beside him in the trench.

"Those are supposed to be rations, you bloody frog. Not a personal stash." France turned his head slightly, pushing his helmet back up when it slid over his eyes, and smiled at England.

He knew he could accuse England of hypocrisy, of doing the exact same thing with his division's whiskey, but he decided not to comment. Why start a fight with an ally when they were already in the middle of a war?

So he merely laughed, turning his head back towards the horizon, wondering if maybe he could squint hard enough and see the German troops somewhere out there in the distance.

* * *

**6) Poker Face Cover by Blowsight**

He was a master of poker. The others would scoff, laugh. America? Managing to keep a poker face? And yet, here he was, stripping Russia of more and more chips.

He had to wonder what would happen when the game ended. When they were done with pet names and sweet nothings and friendliness and back to guns and violence and death threats. But the game never really did end between them. Even when their hands were free of cards, even when there were no chips for them to bet, they were always locked in a game, weren't they?

But that was quite alright with him. America always did love games. And he knew Russia loved games too.

The blond laughed - _it was almost deranged sounding in a way; _w_as this what being around Russia did to him? How very interesting_ - and laid down another hand. "Full house," he said proudly, savoring the frustrated look the larger nation gave him.

Russia frowned, watching as America scooped up the pile of chips, adding them to his rapidly growing pile. "Perhaps we will have to play Russian Roulette next, love. Da?" That grin was more sadistic than loving and America grinned, knowing his was the exact same. "Sure thing, darling."

After all, America did love games.

* * *

**7) 3 (one, two, three) by Britney Spears**

England did not like this. He did not like this at all.

"I love you." The island nation shivered involuntarily as the other nation's breath tickled his ear. Hands roamed along his back and he wanted terribly to resist. Those hands, however, were making it very hard to think straight.

"Je t'aime, L'Angleterre." The whisper was followed by a kiss upon his collarbone, teeth slightly grazing his skin, and Arthur let out a moan before he could help it.

"But I love you more," the first voice argued, sounding angry. The hands roamed lower and Arthur hurried to push them away.

"S-stop that," he growled, face red.

"See, Amerique, he likes me more," the second voice said triumphantly, and arms tightened around his waist, pulling him closer towards the speaker. Kisses were placed along his neck and he swatted the face away, cursing.

"No, you bloody frog! I never said that!" He pushed away from his attacker, standing far away from the other two in the room.

The two blondes watched him closely. "So who do you like more?" America asked, staring him down.

"We expect an answer this time," France added, narrowing his eyes.

England did not like this. He did not like this at all.

* * *

**8) The Scientist by Coldplay**

Sometimes, America really hated July 4. Sure the food was amazing, the fireworks were spectacular, and he loved that the other nations felt obligated to give him presents. That was great, that was awesome. And the party that followed was always a blast.

And yet, America could not keep his eyes from roaming the crowd each and every year, searching desperately for a familiar face he knew would not be there.

And each and every year, he would resign himself to the fact that no, the man was not coming, and attempted to smile through the rest of his party. (_No matter how much he felt like crying. Because he would never cry in front of people. He was a hero after all, and heroes just didn't burst into tears at their own birthday parties_.)

Every year, he would wander towards the phone - _usually after a few drinks and with cloudy, uncertain thoughts_ - and would dial that familiar number. He would let it ring, listening until the voicemail came on, telling him that the other nation was probably much too drunk at the moment to even hear the phone.

And America would always place to phone back down without saying a word.

* * *

**9) Jealousy by Darren Criss**

It was not awesome to be jealous.

And considering Prussia was very awesome indeed, it stood to reason that no, he was not jealous. Not at all. Nope. Uh-uh.

Didn't matter that his hands were clenched so tight he could feel the nails breaking skin, or his teeth were grinding so hard his jaw was starting to hurt. Didn't matter that his insides were twisting horribly uncomfortably or he was seeing red.

Nope, uh-uh. Definitely didn't mean he was jealous.

Especially since he definitely had nothing to be jealous over.

Because being jealous was for sissies in love. And that definitely wasn't Prussia. It would be crazy to say he was in love.

Even if…well, even if the kid was the cutest thing ever and even if every time those lavender eyes turned his way he felt like his stomach was in a whirlwind….or even if when the kid smiled at him Prussia's mind turned to goo.

Nope, he wasn't in love.

The kid just had a nice smile...a very nice smile.

Damn, that kid had a nice smile.

And so Prussia could feel happy and nervous and high and excited when he saw that smile…because it was just the smile…that awesome smile…

Where was he again?

Oh yeah. He definitely wasn't in love with Matthew.

And so he definitely wasn't jealous of that stupid bear that Mattie kept hugging.

That would be ridiculous.

* * *

**10) Everything I Ask For by The Maine**

"Umm…what are you wearing?" Arthur decided he really didn't want to answer that. So, ignoring America, he kept walking.

Was it just him or was the sidewalk shaking?

Damn…it was hard to walk in heels.

"Umm…maybe you didn't hear me…what the hell are you wearing?" America hurried to keep up with the furious Brit. Or really, he didn't have to hurry all that much. Arthur really wasn't moving too quickly in those red stilettos…or that red, skin-tight cocktail dress.

And wow…dress or no…Arthur sure looked good in red.

* * *

Explanation

2) Somehow I got it into my head canon that Prussia gave Hungary the flower she wears in her hair. Yes, I know it represents part of her country like Alfred's cowlick and glasses. But it's cuter this way.

4) Considering things aren't all fine and dandy in the U.S right now, I think it's possible Alfred woudl be a little depressed.

5) WWII. Probably before America showed up.

10) No, I don't know why England was in a red cocktail dress and stilettos, but my guess is it had something to do with France.


	2. la Musica

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like: Hetalia.  
2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random/shuffle.  
3. Write a drabblet/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterward! No matter how whacked out your drabble is. :)  
4. Do ten of these, then post them.

* * *

**1) This Ain't a Love Song, This is Goodbye by Scouting for Girls**

Love songs were the absolute worst curse to be placed upon the Earth.

Love songs in French were - if possible - even worse.

England slammed his hand into the radio roughly, not sure if he was trying to turn it off or break it. Damn Frenchman just had to make him miserable even when he wasn't there.

The island nation bit his lip, attempting to convince himself that, no, he was not on the verge of tears right now.

He wasn't going to cry for _France_, of all people. No matter how much of a bloody mess he was right now. No matter how lost he felt.

No matter how much he wanted France right there at that moment.

"I've had enough of love songs," he said bitterly, sending a glare at the silent radio.

* * *

**2) Dark Blue by Jack's Mannequin**

He felt as if he were drowning in the ocean, sinking lower and lower into the blue, lungs loosing precious air, heartbeat ceasing…

But no; a glance around told him he was still in a bloody room - in Paris of all places. And he wasn't really drowning really; just suffocating from the overwhelming amount of Frenchmen, Englishmen, and…_Americans_.

England clenched his teeth, snatching up the pen as roughly as he could manage; he scribbled out his signature - _Arthur B. Kirkland, The British Empire _- on the appropriate line, determinedly ignoring the feeling of two blue eyes on him.

England turned quickly, avoiding their gaze and sinking into the crowd.

And despite the number of people, England felt so terribly alone.

* * *

**3) Ginny (from A Very Potter Musical) by Darren Criss**

"You're tall and fun and skinny! You're really, really pretty…uh…Mattie!"

"Gilbert, s-stop!" Matthew buried his face in his hands.

"But I want to serenade you!" the albino cried before continuing with the song. "You're cuter than a guinea piiiiig! I wanna take you up to Winnipeg…that's in Canada…right?"

Matthew nodded slowly, quickly turning as red as his sweatshirt.

* * *

**4) Gives You Hell by The All-American Rejects**

Canada had never considered trying to make someone jealous. After all, no one ever really noticed him, so who was he going to make jealous? He never really had a reason too, either.

Now, however, Canada decided he had a damn good reason for making someone jealous.

Damn Austria…what did he have that Canada didn't have?

Okay so sure…at least Austria was recognized by other nations…and yes, he was rather handsome…and proper and all that…and okay, his piano skills were pretty impressive.

But Austria couldn't make pancakes and maple syrup as awesomely as Canada could. (And didn't _he_ always love maple syrup and pancakes? Especially of the awesome variety?)

But it wasn't like Canada was jealous or anything. He was just annoyed that he had been led on by the other nation before being dumped for a stupid piano playing Austrian.

With a sigh, Canada entered the meeting room.

This better work, he decided. These jeans were way too tight for it to all be for nothing.

Though judging from the look on Prussia's face when he walked across the room - _hopefully in a rather sexy way _- it was _**definitely**_ working.

* * *

**5) Sleep by Poets of the Fall**

The world is so very messed up right now. What was it England used to say? Oh, yes. Going to hell in a hand basket indeed.

But dreams are a sweet escape; no more arguing citizens, no more decisions between right and wrong and wrong and right and…dear god, just make it stop. In his dreams, the warring voices in his head cease - _even if only for a while_ - and he enjoys the peace and quiet.

It isn't until later that he begins to realize something isn't right.

There's a face in his dreams now….but isn't that his face? It sure looks like him. Same blue as blue sky eyes. Same crooked, cocky smile. Same amber waves of grain.

But those thoughts…those beliefs…they weren't his, were they? He didn't think like that. He didn't say things like that…did he?

The dreams were scaring him now. They terrified him.

He wasn't sure were to turn; warring voices in reality or a twisted reflection in his dreams.

* * *

**6) Breathing Space by X-Ray Dog**

The halls of the big house are empty.

They used to be filled with children's voices…smiling faces, the running of little feet…

England doesn't like the silence; it quite scares him in fact.

It only reminds him of how very alone he is.

* * *

**7) Breakeven by The Script**

How very ironic, he muses, that the nation of love would wind up brokenhearted.

How very cruel fate is, he thinks, sipping at red wine - _has it always been this bitter?_ - and wondering if perhaps across the channel another nation is drowning out his own sorrows with shots of rum and whiskey. Perhaps he's even thinking of the wine-drinking nation so very near to him.

Ah, but that would be too much to hope for, wouldn't it?

France laughs; it sounds so empty, so hollow, so bitter - like the wine, he thinks.

If he listens closely, he thinks he can still hear childish laughs and the sound of faeries - _because he once believed as much as England _- and perhaps, maybe, a soft voice whispering sweet nothings in shaky French.

Oh, but dear lord, he needs to stop reminiscing, doesn't he?

Those times have passed and so have the feelings - _for England at least_.

My, he must remember to buy new wine.

This stuff is far too bitter.

* * *

**8) Hermione Can't Draw (from A Very Potter Musical) by Harry, Ron, Lupin & Snape**

"So how's it look?"

Matthew flinched; that drawing wasn't supposed to be him…was it?

"Umm…it's…well…I mean…" he struggled with something nice to say about the albino's drawing. Squinting at it closer, he realized something. "What is that blob next to me…is that y - DID YOU DRAW YOU **_MOLESTING_** ME?" Canada glared at the ex-nation, rapidly turning red.

Prussia smiled, waving the drawing in the blond's face. "Yup."

"W-why?"

"Cuz its what I want to do right now."

* * *

**9) Dimelo by Enrique Inglesias**

It was not rare to see America listening to his iPod rather than paying attention in meetings. In fact, most of the other nations ignored it. Germany had tried for a while to get him to stop but had come to the realization that the headphones actually (typically) kept America quiet and that was a good enough reason for him to let it slide.

It was only when America began singing along with the lyrics did the other nation's get angry.

That is, of course, until they actually listened to what he was saying.

"Are…are you singing in Spanish?" England asked, shocked. Hell, the boy could hardly speak his own language perfectly…and here he was singing in fluent sounding Spanish.

Spain smiled. "Ah! I love this song!" The two began a duet…leaving the other nations very, very confused.

* * *

**10) The Cat and the Moon (from the Lord of the Rings Musical soundtrack) by the cast**

"Come on, lil' bro!" Wales said excitedly. "Sing a song!"

America laughed, nodding his agreement. England glared at him before stopping to consider it. The only ones there were his brothers and America - and he really didn't care what his idiotic brothers thought of him…or what America thought of him - _really, he didn't. _Why not give the good people of the pub a show?

"Alright, but I'll need a bit of this," England replied, taking a big swig of his beer before standing on top of the table. The other people in the pub turned to watch him and England racked his brain for an old traditional English song.

Smiling he began singing, "There's an inn of old renown…where they sell a beer so brown…"

* * *

Explanations:

2) Signing of the _Treaty of Paris, 1783_. The treaty officially ended the American Revolution and announced that America was it's own independent country and not England's little colony anymore. (And it was in Paris because France wanted to be part of that action.)

3) If you're a Harry Potter fan and you haven't watched A Very Potter Musical off of youtube, I suggest you go find it right now; it's hilarious. And yes, these are the actual lyrics of this song, even the part about Canada.

5) The American Civil War. I'm still unsure whether I believe there were two version of Alfred at this point or it was all in his head. This kind of combines both ideas, I guess.  
And actually, I'm not sure if "going to hell in a handbasket" is an English saying or not. It just sounded like it would be.

6) England alone in his big ol' house after all his colonies have left him.

7) Yes I think that some of the other countries used to believe in faeries and what not as much as England did. They all had their own fairy tales and myths after all. Its just that they stopped believing after a while and think Iggy's crazy for still believing in them.

9) Enrique Inglesias is a pretty awesome dude. He sings songs in both Spanish and English and he's popular in both Spain and America. Even his Spanish songs are very popular over here. So I'm convinced that America likes him a lot too and sings along with his Spanish songs. Plus, there's so many Spanish speakers in America that Alfred has got to speak Spanish, right? He's just probably never told anybody.

10) So a while ago, I listened to this song while imagining England's brothers (Wales, Scotland, and Ireland) dragging him to an old pub out in rural England with America and convincing him to sing this song with them. XD Basically I can't listen to this song anymore without seeing that in my mind.


	3. Die Musik

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like: Hetalia.  
2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random/shuffle.  
3. Write a drabblet/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterward! No matter how whacked out your drabble is. :)  
4. Do ten of these, then post them.

_I know these are just short drabbles, but please review! Tell me what you like, what you didn't like. What was good and what could be improved. Please, just reivew!_

* * *

**1) Akuma wo Yobisouna Igisiru Nouta (It's Like Calling a Demon ; England's song) by England from Hetalia: Axis Powers**

"Meramera to, yaki tsukuse sumi kara sumi made sono gouka de; atokata mo nokoranu you ni tamashii made mo yaki tsukuse," England chanted, laughing. The corners of his mouth twisted up in a sadistic smirk. He pulled the dark cloak tighter around him and began chanting louder, the rhythmic words coming out as if in song, his voice getting louder and louder with his excitement.

"Iggy…..what are you doing?"

England jumped, the sudden voice causing him to loose his focus. Without warning, there was an explosion from the circle and he was covered in bright purple powder. Someone began laughing behind him and England knew he didn't even need to turn to know who it was. "Damn it, America!"

* * *

**2) Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy by Big & Rich**

"Howdy, y'all!"

The countries in attendance at the World Meeting turned towards the door to watch the very late country enter.

"Congratulations, America. You've made us delay the meeting to wait for you once again," England growled, positively fuming. He eyed the American more closely and asked, "And just what are you wearing?"

America smirked, glancing down at his clothes: worn jeans with chaps covering them, a button up maroon shirt, black handkerchief around his neck, mud caked cowboy boots and a large white cowboy hat. "What da ya' mean, Iggy?" he asked, a very obvious Texas accent coating his words.

A few of the other countries winced at the accent, namely England, while others just appeared confused. "I thought your cowboy days were over, America-san," Japan said, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

America smiled, taking a seat and leaning back so that he could place his boots on the table - which had Austria, England, and Germany all glaring murderously at him. "Well, sure, Kiku! But, ya' see, this cool movie came out and 'ah guess everyone loves cowboys again."

"Whether or not your country is in a cowboy mood," England said, pushing America's feet off the table and glaring at him, "it does not give you an excuse to come like that to a meeting."

America stared at him in silence for a moment, which made England very nervous indeed, before smirking and leaning close to the other nation - who was now blushing a very deep red.

" 'ey, England?" he purred in his southern accent. "Why don't you save a horse and ride a cowboy?"

* * *

**3) Unfaithful by Rihanna**

"France?" France's hand paused on the doorknob. He sighed heavily before faking a smile and turning back towards the other nation. England was standing in the hall awkwardly, staring at him. His normally indifferent expression was replaced with a pained look and France mentally cursed himself. He had only seen the island nation this vulnerable a few times before and it bothered him greatly.

England looked away from France and stared at the tiled floor, twisting his long shirt - the only thing currently covering him, in fact - in his hands.

"Yes, mon cher?"

England winced visibly with the petname and France bit his lip. There was silence for a while before England forced himself to look up at France. His emerald eyes were brimming with sorrow but France knew the island nation would rather kill himself before he shed a tear in front of France. "Where are you going, Francis?" he asked softly, his voice nothing but a whisper.

France heard him nonetheless and lowered his head in shame. Turning back towards the door, he left without an answer.

But England didn't really need one.

* * *

**4) Days of Summer by Starkid Company (from A Very Potter Sequel)**

Alfred fingered the plane ticket in his hands nervously, staring at the crowds of people in front of him.

"Alfred!" The blond turned at the sound of his name, searching the crowds for the familiar Englishman. Arthur was pushing his way through the people, desperate to reach the taller teen before he left.

When he finally did reach him, he raised a hand and slapped the American across the face.

"Uh….ow," Alfred said weakly. "What was that for?"

"For trying to leave without saying goodbye, you git!"

* * *

**5) Forgive Me by Group 1 Crew**

There were lots of unwanted noises these days. Gunshots, explosions, screams.

Germany curled into himself, covering his ears with his hands. _Please_, he begged. _Make them stop. Just make the noises stop._

But they weren't going to stop any time soon, he feared. At least not until this ridiculous war ended.

Not until his citizens, his people, his _children_, stopped dying. Not until the starvation, the beatings, the humiliation, the _genocide_ ended.

He was not very good at praying, despite his catholic status. His older brother was much better at that than he was. Germany was used to solving his own problems without the help of an omnipotent being that he wasn't even sure existed.

But he couldn't do this on his own, he realized.

"Lord please," he pleaded, voice horse and tortured. "Forgive me. _Help_ me."

* * *

**6) More Than It Seems by Kutless**

He wanted to be a hero when he grew up. He wanted to fight battles, defeat battles, slay dragons, and save damsels. He wanted to travel to the fantastical places England described. He wanted to help people, save people. He wanted to be a hero.

But right now he was just a colony.

He would grow soon. He knew he would. He wanted to. He wanted to grow taller than England, stronger than England. He wanted to be the one tending to England's injuries, comforting England in the night, protecting England from the world around him.

But he was only a small colony.

Perhaps one day he would grow to be a hero.

He wanted to. More than anything.

He would protect England one of these days.

But he would also hurt England. He would see the man fight, bleed, fall to his knees in the mud and sob. And all because of America. Because of his little colony.

He would cause the man, the person he loved more than anything, pain for centuries.

But right now he just dreamed of swordfights and slain dragons and damsels in distress.

* * *

**7) Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright**

Life is like a song, he thinks. With minor thirds and major lifts, minor cords and dissonance. With a verse here in _piano_ followed shortly by an overwhelming _fortissimo_. And try as he might, he could never compose the song just the way he wanted. Things happened. Flats here, sharps there. A cord wouldn't quite hit the right notes. Dictators were born. Alliances were destroyed. Friends became enemies.

Swords and armor became bombs and tank and still the song played.

He loved music; he lived music, felt music, breathed music. The piano was part of him, merely an extension of his fingers, a medium for his emotions, his wants, needs, and prayers.

Life was like a song, Austria thought. But a song where the conductor had no control.

* * *

**8) Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles**

The rain was a bit colder than he had expected. He had misjudged the temperature outside as well as the amount of rain. Foolishly he had left his umbrella back at the house; he was only making a quick run to the bookstore, he hadn't imagined he would get quite so soaking wet on the way.

"Blast it all," he murmured, hugging his soaked jacket closer to himself. It would be nice to have a bright, warm, sunny day once in a while.

"You would think you would know how to deal with rain since you get it so much," a voice behind him said, humor obvious in his tone. England turned to see America standing there, rain beating down on him. And suddenly England realized that while the rain should have also been pouring down on himself, it no longer was. A glance up told him why.

America was holding an obnoxious American flag-patterned umbrella over England's head. "Git," he murmured, pulling America under the umbrella with him. "You'll get sick."

America only laughed; shrugging off his brown jacket, he wrapped it around England's shoulders.

And maybe, England thought, rainy days weren't quite so bad after all.

* * *

**9) Whoever She Is by the Maine**

Arthur stared at his office wall, not focused on the piles of paperwork before him at all. His mind was too busy going back to the night before.

"_And just who am I to you, Arthur?"_

The Brit moaned, slamming his head against the desk and pulling at his already messy hair. Just what had that bloody Frenchwoman meant by that? Damn Jeannette, always confusing him like this.

It was only one night in the bar. It wasn't supposed to escalate to sloppy, drunk kisses and the caring - almost loving - touch of a perverted Frenchwoman. My god, it wasn't supposed to turn into anything. They were supposed to stay awkward-almost-but-not-quite-best-friends and rivals and work collogues.

She wasn't supposed to make his heart beat so fast or his mind feel so muddled.

So just who was Jeanette to him?

* * *

**10) Glitter In the Air by P!nk**

"Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What are you going on about?"

But America didn't answer him. Didn't even look at him. He was too busy staring out at the skyscrapers in the distance. England had to admit, Chicago was quite lovely at night. The reflection in the water sparkled beautifully but England looked away from the brilliant city to stare in confusion at the unusually silent nation.

"I mean," America began slowly. "Have you ever done something that just seems pointless, just to do it? Something that makes no sense to anyone else, but means a lot to you? Have you ever wished for something you couldn't have? Just closed your eyes and held on tight to those wishes? Held your breath and asked yourself if it would ever get better than tonight?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

But America wouldn't say a thing. He was lost in his memories and the knowledge that at even at a distance of just two feet, England was much too far away. He probably couldn't even touch him. So why stay around with that taunting close distance?

The American began to walk away and when he was a reasonable distance from England, he whispered to himself, the words caught in the Chicago wind and pulled out over the water and far from England's ears, "The glitter reminds me of your fairies. And sometimes I wonder if I cover myself in that make-believe magic, you'll love me."

* * *

Explanations:

5) The Holocaust.

7) Dictators were born = Adolf Hitler. He was Austrian.

9) Jeanette = fem!France, one of the few fem!nations I can stand. As far as I know, there's no canon names for the genflipped characters so I just gave her a name I've seen other people use.

10) I did not do justice to this song at all. I'm sorry.


End file.
